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The Legendary Frank Meighan: 'Santa,' Philosopher, Hermit

Reprinted from the Wilkes-Barre
Record, March
1937

Frank
Meighan, hermit philosopher of Laketon, young at 76 “because
I never worry,” celebrates his birthday anniversary today,
in the one-room board cabin he built some 10 years ago, near a cottage
settlement at Harvey’s
Lake, and waits with wistful impatience for the turn of spring, that he
may nurse to life and fruitage the many gardens, lawns and flower
beds of surrounding cottages which depend on his skill and care for
their productive beauty.

The gentle
hearted old man, small of stature, kind of eye, brisk of voice, bushy of
beard, has the snap and vigor of a man 20 years younger. He uses glasses
only at times, when reading, and then “not because I have to, but it is easier on the
eyes.” He spends the winter months, which he admits are lonesome, in
reading, writing poetry and visiting at Rood’s general store nearby,
from which he purchases his tobacco and other supplies from an old age pension
of $15 a month.

His square
little cabin looks off to the lake, and is half sheltered by a gnarled
and wide-limbed apple tree. Inside there is a small bed, covered with a
heavy woolen patch quilt, which he is proud to have made himself. On the
wall are prints cut from magazines, and several sketches, including one
life size of Dan Hart, which he did during a period when interested in
dabbling in art, but not one lesson ever did I take in all my life,” he says. He regrets keenly the
loss, by theft of two large oil paintings on which he expended great care and
which he said, “I wanted here after I am gone.”

There are
two stoves, one for coal and wood in winter, and one for kerosene in summer.
A refrigerator, combination work and dining table, small cupboard, radio
with lace throw and two chairs complete the furnishings. A few kettles
hang on pegs behind the cast-iron stove and a few extra garments hang
behind the bed. Suspended by a cord is a small alarm clock. Mr. Meighan
said: “I sure am attached
to that clock. It had such a good tick. I like a strong tick so I can hear
it when I lie in bed.”

Democrat Entire Life

Mr. Meighan
has been a Democrat his entire life. On the wall, alongside the picture
of President Roosevelt, hangs a fine likeness of Alf Landon. “Why not?” he
said. “If he had got elected I’d appreciate him the same
as the other one, so long as he was our President.”
When asked
to what he attributes his undiminished vigor of body and mind the alert
little man replied, “I never worry. Smoke? Sure I smoke. And I
chew, too.”

His preferred
reading is newspapers and magazines, which he said he devours from cover
to cover, explaining:

“Short
stories and all. I want to be up with the date. I don’t like what is
past.” This winter he has interested himself in poetry, of
which he writes sincere, straightforward comments on life, with an
undertone of the inflexibility of law and goodness of God. He is
firm in refusing anything for publication.

“Frankie” or “Sankey,” as
the neighbors affectionately call him, believes the world is growing worse. “There
is too much privilege granted to the people. It is going to be all covered
over some day like Sodom and Gomorrah. Just see the fool-women these days that
want divorces for such a silly thing as the husband doesn’t
kiss them before he goes to work.

“Look
how fine things are down at Retreat and yet there is all the grumbling.
They live down there like princes. Free shows every Monday and Friday
night and radios all over the place. They have beds that shine like
the Hotel Sterling. They can get a bath whenever they want and clean
clothes every week.”

‘Never Been Sick in My Life’

“No,
never been sick in my life. But I was in General Hospital two years
back when I got hit by an automobile and broke my leg. So I can’t dance as good
as I did, and they told me I daresn’t skate at all for fear
it goes bad on me again. It was down so close to the ankle. That
is the hardest, for I was always one grand skater.

“Colds?
Never had a cold in my life. And I never bother to bundle up. You catch
cold by wearing big heavy wool things and then taking it off. I dress light.
In summer I go bearfoot.” For February the hardy little man wears a suit-coat
and sweater, thin knickers, cotton puttees and a small red wool skull cap perched
on the back of his long white hair. His flowing beard is “not
so long as it was, for I cut it off a couple of years ago.”

“Yes,
I’m jack-of-all-trades. I’ve taught school and nursed
sick folks and done most anything a fellow might want. I figure the
reason I so a lot of things so good like berry-picking in summer,
is because my fingers are not clumsy. They are small, like my feet.
These boots are too big for me. By rights I wear No. 5.

“For
three years I was keeper at the County Jail on Water Street. I was
on the school board at Parsons with James Boyd, Ben Chandler, Tommie
Evans, Jimmie Flynn, and Tommie Davis when we voted in Hopper for
County Superintendent. That was all of 40 years ago.”

Frank Meighan
was born in Honeybrook, now called McAdoo, Schuylkill County, six weeks
before the outbreak of the Civil War but has spent most of his life in
Wyoming Valley.

Operated First Electric Car

“I
drove,” he asserts, “the first suburban electric car. It went from
Wilkes-Barre to Plains and carried the mail. Frank Le Bar was the conductor.
Counting stops to let folks off and on it took an hour each way. But in the
winter when the snow was bad, many’s the time that laddie-buck
and me would start out at 6 in the morning and not get back to town
till night.

‘Some Snow in Those Days’

“It
was some snow we had those days. We would run 20 feet and then get
out and shovel and sand and after another 20 feet it was stop, shovel,
and sand all over again.”

Clear blue
eyes sparkle beneath shaggy graying brows as he recalled:

“Such
light little cars that they were! There was a pipe stove in the middle
and seats down the sides. The vestibule was open. If too many got on one end
they could tip it clean off the track. Them devils of boys at Plains used to
pile on the rear end at night and get swinging and wouldn’t
listen to a word anybody said. They could throw her off, going
over the Brookside bridge, every time.”

Mr. Meighan
claims to be the only living witness to the famous Red Nose Mike
murders of McClure and Flannigan 19 October, 1888. “I helped
put them in the wagon. But I was never called to testify because
Red Nose Mike confessed.”

In the summer
the old man is so much in demand as gardener and general yard man that
he cannot make the rounds.

He is up
at 4 each morning, and busy with rake spade, shovel, lawn mover and
hoe till dark. In the fall he puts in his winter’s supply of
fuel by dragging small tree trunks by rope down the mountainside.

“Old
apple wood is best. Maple don’t last. It is hard to split and
it burns off quick, not having any substance. Ash is no good either
Tamarack is real good for kindling and leaves a good cider.

“I
can work as good as I ever could,” Frankie says, “and I can fight
like the devil. Perhaps,” with a chuckle “too much like
the devil.”